Closing Time
by LulaBee13
Summary: A hot summer's day at the Tasty Pastry shop changed her life forever. And even now, lingering questions remained, plaguing her years later. Set sometime in Fearless Fourteen. Oneshot (for the most part)
1. Closing Time

_6:51._

_Only nine more minutes_, I quietly thought. Glancing towards the bakery shop door, the little black sign hanging in the window called to me; the word 'Closed' taunting me with its big, bold, orange block letters. Beside it hung a large green paper cutout of a Christmas tree; smaller squares of multicolored wrapping paper representing gifts clustered beneath in. It was a quaint tribute to the holidays, and only the blistering heat blowing through the door every time it opened, combined with sweltering air suffocating me as I stood at the counter, never failed to remind me that it was actually July.

With sweat running down my back and aching feet only adding to my misery, I lamented my bad luck in getting stuck with the closing shift at the Tasty Pastry shop on their Christmas In July sale. It was a gimmick dreamed up by the owner, Mrs. Koch, to encourage the Burg to come into the bakery and spend their money here rather than at Custard's Last Stand, an ice cream shop situated across the street. It was the one-day midyear when Mary Koch, suburban baker extraordinaire, would break out her recipe box and resurrect her customers' favorite holiday creations; an event that the Burg awaited in tantalizing anticipation and would descend on the small shop in barely manageable hordes.

That reminded me once more of the real source for my sour mood. Looking towards the display case for the thousandth time, I stared longingly at the last two Hot Chocolate cupcakes, my absolute favorite! I had been eyeing them covetously since first arriving for my shift and had nearly suffered the crushing disappointment of losing them when Mrs. Hanover tried to purchase them for her two whiny little grandchildren. But by the grace of God, the little brats, who clearly didn't know what was good for them, had refused, demanding ice cream from Custard's instead and leaving the store empty-handed.

And so they sat, the dark chocolate cake, which I knew from experience was the moistest and most decadent chocolate cake to ever exist, topped by marshmallow buttercream frosting, a small peppermint stick, mini marshmallows, and chocolate chips. _And I wanted it._

However, Mrs. Koch had a strict rule about sampling the product. If there was something leftover after closing, we were allowed to help ourselves to a treat or two. But if you snuck a bite before then and a customer wasn't able to get what they wanted, there would be hell to pay; hell in the form of a five foot two, hundred and ninety pound German bakery shop owner who was rumored to have taken down a bouncer at the Cock-A-Doodle-Doo male review in Atlantic City two years ago when he tried to remove her from the stage.

Or at least that's what I heard.

_6:53._

Seven minutes. What are the chances someone's going to come in looking for a Hot Chocolate cupcake in the next seven minutes? Besides, I was willing to pay for it; doesn't that make _me_ a customer? Shuffling quickly across the bakery floor, careful not to make any noise – lest the zero other people in the building were able to hear me – I glanced out the door, relieved to find the sidewalk empty. Running to the case, I quickly grabbed the bigger one from the shelf and slipped behind the register. With one more look over the counter to ensure no one had witness my betrayal, I slid on to the floor, my back to the counter as I remove the wrapper and at long last finally sunk my teeth into the gooey, chocolatey goodness which had been taunting me all day.

"Uhn!" I moaned, my eyes drifting closed as I chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the chocolate mingling with the sweetness of the buttercream on my tongue. The second bite eliciting the same reaction as I already began to think about the second cupcake still resting in its place inside the case.

"That must be some cupcake."

Startled by the unexpected sound of a voice behind me, I nearly jumped out of my skin, dropping the treat in my surprise. In slow motion terror, I watched as it fell first on my chest, smearing marshmallow frosting on what little cleavage I had before then falling to floor with a subtle splat.

Leaping to my feet, I spun around to find myself unexpectedly face-to-face with the Burg's very own Italian Stallion: Joe Morelli.

Stuttering where I stood, I could feel the heat creeping into my face as I tried to look anywhere but at him. To say that Morelli made me nervous was the understatement of the century. Hell, all boys made me nervous. I'm a sixteen-year-old, rail thin, small chested tomboy with more hair than anything else. If I had to guess, I'd put the ratio around seventy percent hair, twenty percent gangling limbs, and ten percent everything else. Not to mention the latest rumor swirling around my high school was from that bitch Joyce Barnhardt telling everyone I'd peed the bed at summer camp when I was nine years old and tried to hide it by burying my sheets in the woods.

That never happened, by the way.

So boys in general made me self-conscious, but Joe Morelli was a whole other ballgame. I'd had some… encounters with Joe during the course of my young life; ones I'm embarrassed to admit to and my father would probably beat the crap out of Morelli if he ever found out.

"S-S-S-Sorry, I'm not s-supposed to eat on the job."

"Sounds like it was worth it," he teased, his eyes dancing with laughter as he gave me a once over; his gaze lingering for a bit longer on the frosting caked on my chest. What are the chances he didn't notice my nipples hardening? "Sorry to have startled you. Didn't mean to make you lose your cupcake."

Glancing to the now dead dessert lying on the ground, I sighed quietly, mourning the loss of such a treat, before returning my attention to him, "What can I get for you?" Did my voice always sound so squeaky?

He stood for a moment smiling at me before reaching forward to run the tip of his finger along the corner of my mouth, "You, uh, have a little something…"

His touch was light and sent an electric jolt from my lips straight to my doodah. When he withdrew his hand, I watched in a daze as he sucked a small dollop of marshmallow buttercream from his finger and hummed, "Mmmm, that is good. Wouldn't happen to have another one of those, would you?"

I don't know how long I stood there staring at him, but I'm sure it was too long to go unnoticed. My mouth didn't seem capable of moving at that moment, nor any other part of me.

"What kind is it?" he asked, a subtle nudge to draw me from my stupor.

"Uh… Hot Chocolate. And yeah, we have one more," I finally answered, gesturing vaguely towards the case.

Turning his attention to it, he took a few steps down the counter, browsing the offerings the case had to present. "I feel bad making you lose the one you had. Let me get that last one for you to make up for it. And I think I'll have… the cannoli."

Willing my feet to move, I was able to complete his order, ignoring the way he watched me as I worked. Boxing up his order, I set the cannoli on the counter, too nervous that he'd notice the shaking of my hands if I tried to hand it to him. "That'll be three-fifty."

"With that heat out there, I don't think my cannoli will make it home." Tilting his head towards the table closest to the counter, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit while I eat?"

Glancing to the clock, I was relieved to finally see it reading 6:59. "Oh! Umm… actually I have to close up now."

"No problem. I'll help," he smiled. Grabbing the box as well as my cupcake, he moved to the table. "But first: dessert."

In an ever-increasing state of panic, I watched in horror as he then crossed the shop floor and threw the deadbolt on the door, flipping the sign to 'Closed' before returning to the table and settling in. He turned to me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to join him before popping the box open. It took a few moments more before my feet could respond, but I soon found myself seated at the table, picking up my snack.

"So, how has your summer been?" I had no idea what else to say to break the silence.

"Good. I've been talking with a recruiter from the Navy and decided to enlist."

"The Navy?" I asked in awe. "Wow."

"Well, college really isn't my thing," he explained.

"When do you leave?"

"Don't know. Have to do the paperwork first," he answered, taking a bite from his cannoli.

Unsure of what to say next, I slowly peeled the wrapper from my cupcake and picked the toppings off the frosting. Was I uncomfortable? Yes! Was I panicking at being alone in a locked shop with Joe Morelli? HELL YES!

Mary Lou had once told me that Morelli had the tongue of a lizard with fast hands and even faster fingers. I hadn't known what she meant by that, but I knew it couldn't be good. Or maybe… it could be _too_ good. But what interest would he have in me? I was probably safe.

Right?

Folding his arms, he leaned on the table, drawing himself within inches of me; his presence filling my senses as he continued to smile. "You know, when Mooch told me he saw you working here, I didn't believe him."

"You didn't?"

Slowly he shook his head no, his eyes dropping briefly to my mouth. Shit! Did I have more frosting on my face?

"Had to see for myself."

"You did?"

"Sure. It's been some time since I saw you last. Wanted to stop in and say hello."

"H-h-hi." _Hi?!_ God, I feel so stupid! Between his soft eyes, hard lines, and the delicious scent of whatever soap he was using, I had been reduced to a drooling moron.

"Hey," he replied quietly, his gaze now sliding even further down to settle on my chest. "You've certainly grown up since I last saw you."

_Breathe! Breathe, damnit!_

His eyes once again returned to mine; the smile now resembling more of a light grin. "You're not eating," he observed.

Without thinking, I broke off a piece of my cupcake and shoved it into my mouth. Chewed rapidly in my nervousness and replacing it with another bite as soon as I'd swallowed the first, hoping food, my ultimate sanctuary, wouldn't fail me now.

I had turned away from him as I ate, staring at the Heimlich poster on the far wall. If I kept eating at this pace, that poster might just come in handy!

From the corner of my eye, I could see his attention had drifted to my hair. Reaching forward, he tucked a stray curl behind my ear; the tips of his fingers skimming lightly along my jaw before catching my chin and turning my face towards him. In unabashed shock, I sat frozen as he leaned closer; his lips brushing lightly against mine before pressing in for a gentle kiss; the tip of his tongue running lightly over my bottom lip as he pulled away a heartbeat later.

"You're right. It's delicious." His face was still close to mine as he caught my eye. "You're looking a bit flushed," he teased. "Has it been that long since a boy kissed you?"

Humiliation flooding every fiber of my being, I could feel the heat in my cheeks grow even brighter as I stuttered, "I-I-I've n-never been…"

I watched on bated breath as his brows drew together, his eyes squinting slightly as a large smile appeared once again, "Oooo! Liar," he accused playfully.

_No…. No! He couldn't possibly remember-_

"I clearly remember giving you mouth-to-mouth a time or two. Back when we used to play doctor behind your parents' garage."

I could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in my chest as he spoke. Or maybe that was my own heart, pounding away furiously as blood and hormones pumped through my veins at the memories. Desperate to change the topic, I lied, "I didn't really think that counts."

"Oh, it does to me. You're the first girl I ever kissed." His smile now settling in a wolfish grin, his eyes dropped again, this time lingering on my lap for a moment or two before returning to mine. "First skirt I ever looked up, too."

Gulping audibly, I struggled to push away the lump that hard formed in my throat; a struggle I clearly lost as I croaked, "I was?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," he hummed. "You were my first for quite a few things." He reached forward again, caressing me beneath my chin as he leaned closer. "Find it hard to believe no other boys have tried to kiss you since, pretty little thing that you are."

Dismissing such a compliment, I gently shook my head no. "I'm not."

"Oh, believe me. I know a pretty girl when I see one." His eyes then followed the path being blazed by his finger as it slid down my throat, between my collar bones, tracing my breast bone to the point where it disappeared beneath my shirt. "Just like I can tell you're going to grow into a beautiful woman. Can't wait to see it."

My body was on fire: ears ringing from the rush of blood, my heart about to burst out of my chest at any moment, and the skin beneath his finger burning with sensation at the feel of his touch between my breasts. This was what death feels like; I'm convinced of it.

With my brain unable to function, my mouth thankfully attempted to take some control, suddenly declaring, "I have to finish closing up."

His amusement to this was obvious as he reminded, "Yeah, I said I'd help you with that."

"You haven't finished your cannoli."

Without delay, he popped the rest of it into his mouth and stood from the table, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity as he inquired, "What do you need me to do?"

My tongue stumbling over itself as I stood, I listed my closing duties: sweep and mop the floors, turn off the display case lights, wipe down the counters, lock the register.

"All right then," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get to work."

Taking up the mats behind the counter, I rushed through the back door, draping them over the railing before practically collapsing against the back wall of the bakery. Drawing deep breaths, I struggled to get my heart rate down and dry the sweat which had pooled in every nook and cranny of my body. Unfortunately, the place that had gotten the wettest couldn't be attended to behind the shop, not with the windows of Mr. Crenshaw's three story house glaring down at me.

Once I felt like I had gathered some control, I walked back inside, finding Morelli with a broom in his hand, sweeping up the crumbs behind the counter. Without saying anything, I began to make my way through the cases, turning off the lights. Unfortunately to accomplish this, it required me to get down on my hands and knees and lean halfway into the case to find the light switch; a task I'd never given much thought until now with Joe Morelli standing behind me. Whoever designed these cases deserved to be shot.

I made quick work of the first two, sitting on my feet and twisting my body into almost impossible positions in a desperate attempt to maintain my dignity. But by the time I reached the éclair case, I remembered that the door closest to the switch was still jammed, making it impossible to reach without crawling halfway into the case. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see him focusing on filling the dust pan, paying no attention to me.

Quick as a bunny, I propped myself up on my knees and crawled partway in, my head ducked beneath the shelf and my left arm straining to reach the switch. Suddenly I felt something brush my ass and jumped, smacking my head on the shelf and vaguely registering the sound of Joe's voice close behind me.

"Here, let me get that," he said. But the generosity of his offer was quickly lost as I felt his hands brush over my ass to settle on my hips, gently tugging me back towards him. To clear the case, I attempted to move backwards and instead found my bottom pressing up against the front of him; his hands guiding my hips into his makeshift lap as he was knelt behind me.

I muttered a thank you and tried to move, but his grip tightened slightly, holding me where I was. In the next moment, I felt the heat of his breath against my neck followed swiftly by his lips as they skimmed over the sensitive skin.

"Mmmm, you smell like a bakery." Once his lips found my pulse, beating rapidly beneath my skin, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it, licking at the skin before dropping another kiss on it; my skin prickling in response. "Taste just as sweet."

And in that moment, I started to understand what Mary Lou was saying. As his mouth continued exploring my neck, one hand snaked between us, loosening the strings on my apron. Tossing it quickly aside, both hands made their way beneath my shirt, each cupping a breast as his thumbs started rubbing lightly over the material, drawing my nipples into hardened peaks. The wet spot under my skirt getting wetter.

"It's been far too long since we played together," he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending a violent shiver through my body. One of his hands was on the move again, this time it was heading south and I had a pretty good idea as to its destination. It went where it always went during our games of choo choo in his father's garage, and I gasped loudly at the feel of it.

He smiled against my ear in response. "We always did play well together, didn't we?"

Numbly I nodded, and my body soon starting to sway lightly, falling in sync with the rhythm of his clever fingers. But I was startled from my trance when said fingers were suddenly _in_ my panties as opposed to out.

"Christ, Stephanie," he quietly groaned. "You feel amazing." At once, he withdrew his hand from my breast and cupped my cheek, turning my head towards him and locking his lips to mine in a hard and demanding kiss. Unsure of what to do, my instincts grab the reins and I opened my mouth, gasping at the sensation of his tongue quickly finding mine.

_What was happening?_

As his tongue worked to train my own in the art of kissing, his fingers pressed harder, moving faster and I could feel _that sensation_ starting to build. I could also feel something hard lurking beneath his jeans, pressing against my bottom as my pleasure gathered steam.

Then all of sudden it stopped. All of it except for my desire. His fingers were gone; his lips were gone; his hands were gone. "Wha?" I asked in a daze. But my question was quickly answered as I felt his hands gripping my hips and lifting me off his lap and on to the floor. And in a flash, the next thing I knew I was looking up at the ceiling.

Raising my head I saw Joe kneeling at my feet, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and I was relieved that I was already lying on the floor. Otherwise the sight of Joe's bared torso would have been enough to make me faint. Moving over me, he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue again demanding entrance as he pinned me to the floor with his weight; his hands now free to roam, and roam they did! Grabbing my ass, squeezing my thighs, kneading my breasts, stroking my back, making quick work of divesting me of my t-shirt and then my bra.

Sliding down, his lips blazed a heated trail from my mouth to my chest; his tongue lapping the long-forgotten marshmallow frosting from my skin before then sliding first to one nipple and then the other, drawing them into his mouth and sucking hard. Once he had finished, he continued his path down. His hands grabbed the waist of my skirt, pulling it and my panties off in one quick move. The feel of the cold floor against my bare ass was enough to shock me from my lust-induced haze.

"Wait. Wait!"

But that was as far as my protests made it before I felt his hands guiding my legs apart and suddenly his head was between them, his lizard-like tongue pulling from me a strangled gasp of shock and pleasure. "Unh!"

We'd never done _that_ as children!

Again that delicious pressure was starting to build and I could focus on little else until once again it was all of a sudden gone. Looking down to glare at him in frustration, whatever retort I may have hoped to say was lost to the vision of him kneeling between my legs. In fascination I watched as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He looked at it, pausing for a moment to consider something before then tossing it to the side. His jeans and briefs quickly followed suit and in the blink of an eye he was looming over me. He crushed his lips to mine and I faintly registered the feel of his cross, hanging from a gold chain around his neck, brushing against my throat.

The next thing I felt was a burning, painful sensation between my legs as he pushed into me. I cried out briefly in protest to the pain, but he didn't seem too concerned, whispering against my lips that it would stop soon and everything would be good. He remained still for a few moments, peppering my lips with light kisses, his hand slipping beneath my head to hold me, before settling into a steady rhythm, thrusting that at best felt uncomfortable and at worst still brought pangs of my newly-popped virginity. It wasn't until his fingers once again found their way between us, working their magic that the pain subsided and the pleasure of his movements returned.

He soon settled his face into the crook of my neck; his breath hot against my skin as he moved. After what felt like a lifetime and simultaneously too brief, I felt him stiffen; a hand grabbing firmly at my hip as he thrust hard and shuddered; a strangled groan filling my ears and making my insides clench. While his movements slowed, his fingers returned to their work, continuing in a frenzied pace and soon I felt a familiar surge of pleasure wash through me; my breath caught in my throat, the sensation drawing another moan from him.

By the time I was able to open my eyes, I found him hovering above me, a cocky, satisfied smirk on his lips. Leaning forward, he gave me another deep and shockingly sensual kiss before pulling out and getting to his feet. Grabbing my hand, he helped me up, stooping to pick up my clothes and hand them to me. Now fully self-conscious of my nakedness, I set a new record for world's fastest dresser and turned away as he redressed.

From the corner of my eye, I observed him as he squatted next to the éclair case, reaching in to flip off the light before getting to his feet. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me in for another playful kiss, tugging my lower lip between his teeth before hitting me with another dazzling smile. Retreating to the table, he retrieved what remained of my snack, handing it to me over the counter. In a haze, I reached forward to take it; his fingers brushing lightly against my own.

"I look forward to seeing you around, Cupcake."

And with that he was out the door, leaving a dazed, confused, sweaty and sore sixteen-year-old girl in his wake.


	2. The Difference

"_You were different."_

It was a comment I hadn't quite been able to shake since that late-night conversation in Morelli's kitchen a couple days ago. I had thought about the evening at the bakery _a lot_ since high school. As my knowledge and experience had matured, I had found my understanding of that night continually being revised.

True, he could have been kinder, more gentle in deflowering me, and preferably not on the floor of a bakery. But he had also gotten me hotter and wetter than Dickie ever could; Joyce could keep him for all I cared. And in truth, though I'd never admit it to Morelli, that had remained my best sexual experience until years later when our paths crossed again. I was pleased to discover he'd gotten even better at it, but he had more than enough ego for us both, and it really didn't need any help from me.

But I still had some lingering questions about the things he told me. Were they true or was that just part of his strategy to get me on my back? Did he say that to all the girls he'd played with growing up? And how was I "different"?

Laying there in the pre-morning dim, I listened to his slow and steady breath as he slept beside me; one arm thrown across my stomach and one leg resting against mine. Staring at the ceiling, I watch as the first light of day slowly crept through the curtains, the first sounds of birds chirping coming through the window. Eventually I felt him stirring, and I turned to watch him, waiting for his eyes to open.

"Did you really mean it?" I asked as soon as I could sense he was awake.

"What?" he mumbled, pulling me closer and pressing his face against my neck as the morning fog slowly started to lift.

"What you said, did you really mean it? Or were you just trying to get me naked?"

"Cupcake, I'm always trying to get you naked," he murmured, his lips brushing my neck as I felt the familiar stirring against my thigh.

Sighing, I finally relented and clued him in to what I was talking about, hoping he was now awake enough to answer my questions. "That night at the bakery, in high school." I paused as I felt him smiling against my skin. "When you said I was your first kiss, did you mean it?"

I felt him nodding against me followed by more light kisses. "Every word."

"You weren't just trying to get in my pants?"

"As I recall, you were wearing a skirt."

"You know what I mean."

Wrapping his arms around me fully, he pulled me flush against him; his mouth descending on mine, his tongue quickly gaining entrance. Morning breath meant nothing in the face of delicious morning sex with Joe.

When he finally pulled away, he returned to nuzzling my neck, his voice rough from the combination of a night's sleep and building desire. "You were my first in everything we did as kids. First kiss, first touching, first fingering, all of it."

"Why me?"

Raising his head, he caught my eye and I could tell he was enjoying this conversation a little too much. "I liked you. Even back then."

"And why was I different?"

This only caused his brow to crease, his confusion at my question evident.

"When we were talking about Loretta, you said you always used a condom except for with me. You said it was because I was different."

The smile returned, even wider than before. He studied me quietly for a few moments, licking his lips lightly before leaning in for another deep, toe-curling kiss; his hand sliding down to give my ass a light squeeze as he did so. When he finally pulled back, he answered, "You were my first for so many things, only right that you should've been my first bareback."

"How many have there been since?"

"Only you, Cupcake."

"You could have gotten me pregnant," I pointed out once again.

"Yeah, but you were the only girl I thought I wouldn't mind getting shackled too if that happened."

I could feel my eyebrows disappear into my hairline as he said this, and once again that familiar sense of panic started to fill me; my heartbeat elevated now in response to his answer more than his physical state.

"And now?"

"It's far too late. I already am."

And in a flash, the next thing I knew I was looking up at the ceiling. _How does he do that?!_


End file.
